Dance with a Vampire (Vampire Kisses 4)

I noticed a small brunette girl in an amazing blue vintage gown holding the hand of her dashing young date.

"Becky!" I called, running over to her.

"Raven! I rode in a limousine!"

"I know. I saw you get out. You looked like a movie star!"

"You are the prettiest one here!" she gloated.

"No way, you are! That dress is so you--and so gorgeous!" While Becky and I gushed, Alexander and Matt made small talk.

"Let's get our picture taken," Becky said. "All four of us."

My heart sank. Again I would have to miss pictures with Alexander.

"I'm still blinded from all the flashes at home," I said.

"Very funny." Becky pulled my arm and eagerly led me to the photo area. I glanced back. Matt was following us, but my dark-suited boyfriend stayed still.

"Where's Alexander?" Matt asked. "I thought he was right behind me."

"He hates pictures. Something about them stealing your soul," I rambled on.

A crowd of promgoers gathered, waiting for their Kodak moment. All of a sudden, Becky pulled Alexander from between a group of couples standing behind us.

"Your turn," the photographer said, pointing to me.

I froze, but Becky pulled me to the black duct-taped X marked on the center of the floor. "I'll cherish this forever.

"Maybe they'll pick this one for the yearbook," she continued.

"We can only hope," I said through a cheesy grin.

"I didn't know vampires showed up on film," I heard one of the students say. They were referring to me.

The photographer angled Becky and me in a V shape and arranged Matt and Alexander behind us as if they were giant game pieces.

I glanced back at Alexander, who I was surprised to find smiling for the camera. "On the count of three," the photographer said. "One, two--"

"Hachoo!" I said, faking a sneeze.

"Bless you," my friends said.

"Gesundheit," the photographer said, stepping away from his digital camera. "Again, on the count of three." He focused behind the camera. "One, two--"

"I really must get a tissue," I said, holding my hand up.

Becky held my arm so I couldn't move.

"I have three hundred pictures to take this evening. I can't take the picture if you keep moving," the photographer warned.

I could feel the crowd around us getting restless.

The photographer stepped behind the camera.

"One--" The flash went off. Tricky man. Luckily the room was bright enough that the flash didn't blind me, much less Alexander.

Another couple scurried toward us, making their way for our spots.

"I'm thirsty," Alexander said anxiously, suddenly leading me through the crowd and away from the photographer.

As Alexander and I made our escape, I could hear Matt calling us.

"We have to take it again," he said. "The photographer cut Alexander out of the picture."

My nonphotographic boyfriend and I gathered at the punch bowl. The refreshment table was sprinkled with red and white chocolate kisses, bowls of Red Hots, and heart-shaped boxes filled with more chocolates. I saw Jennifer Warren in the black cocktail dress I had wanted to purchase at Jack's. I was still annoyed she had pulled the dress out from under my nose, but she really did fill out the dress so beautifully that I couldn't help but tell her so.

"That dress was made for you."

"And yours as well," she said with a catlike grin.

"Thanks," I replied.

Deep down I knew she didn't mean it as a compliment.

Trevor, in an unbuttoned sleek black tux, crisp white shirt, and solid red silk tie, walked over to Jennifer.

He looked me over from my midnight black hair to my charcoal witchy boots.

"Too bad you didn't want that dance," he said softly. "I was planning on showing you a night to remember."

"It will be a night to remember. Only I'll be forgetting you were in it."

Just then, Alexander stepped between us. The Caped Crusaders began to play "Love Shack."

"May I have this dance?" Alexander said, offering his hand.

We left Trevor by the refreshments and for the next hour, Alexander and I rocked and rolled until I was seeing hearts. Finally we were both so exhausted, we headed back to the punch bowl for a pick-me-up.

Mr. Ferguson took center stage and stood in front of the Caped Crusaders. "I'd like to thank you all for coming out tonight for Viva las Valentines!" he said into the microphone to massive applause. "I'd like to thank the Decorating Committee for volunteering their time and transforming the gymnasium into a valentine paradise." "Go, Becky!" I shouted, clapping for my best friend who was standing next to me.

"And finally to Shirley's Bakery for the candies and refreshments," Mr. Ferguson continued.

"Now we're applauding the punch bowl," I whispered to Alexander.

"I am very pleased to announce tonight's King and Queen."

"Woohoo!" a soccer snob shouted over the sound of applause.

"Drumroll, please...," Mr. Ferguson commanded.

The crowd stood quiet as my study hall teacher opened a letter- sized valentine.

"I'd like to present to you this year's Prom King...Trevor Mitchell."

Trevor high-fived his soccer-snob teammates and ran up onstage like he was receiving the World Cup.

I rolled my eyes. "Big surprise. When Daddy owns all the land in Dullsville," I whispered to Alexander, "he can afford to buy his son a throne."

Heather came over to Trevor, who was now standing center stage, waving to the crowd, and placed a silver staff in his hand and a crown on top of his blond locks.

"And this year's prom queen..." Mr. Ferguson opened the second valentine and began to say, "Jen--"

Jennifer Warren started for the aisle.

Mr. Ferguson's eyes bulged out like Jameson's. He cleared his throat and said, "I mean, Raven Madison."

The crowd went quiet. "Raven Madison," he said again.

I stared at Trevor, who gave me a triumphant wink.

All eyes were on me as the spotlight hit my face.

"This must be wrong," I said to Alexander.

Jennifer Warren stood stunned at the foot of the stage. "This is my senior year! I demand a recount!"

Becky started clapping. "Raven, Raven!" The other promgoers were as shocked as I was, but they joined her.

"Raven! Raven! Raven!" the crowd began to cheer.

"Get up there," Becky said, pushing me toward the stage.